The candles of the dead will not be extinguished floating like blossoms in the deep cradled by spectral hands never seen by the living except in dreams or art
Did you come this far for the view? Or was it a curious urge to find forgiveness in a time of grief?
I can grant you forgiveness. I have the power through time and the tides my calloused hands have held the sun like an egg my feet have climbed Mt. Olympus and none the wiser
So come gently with me leave your battered dreams on the bedside table drink a draught of this noble wine stand upon this precipice of uncertainty and contemplate something near to eternity.